What Unfolds in Vega$: Steroids, Swimmers, and a Billion-Dollar Conspiracy

I’m soaking in the punishing Nevada heat, observing a man striving to hoist a barbell overhead. If he succeeds, a staggering reward of $250,000 awaits him.

The athlete in question is Boady Santavy, a two-time Canadian Olympic weightlifter whose physique appears to be pulled from a Marvel movie: his arms are fantastically exaggerated, poised for a superhero rather than an average person.

Santavy is targeting the world record for the men’s snatch, with the goal of lifting 183 kilograms, approximately 403 pounds. After a nail-biting moment, he has to drop the bar — a clear sign of “no lift” — and limps away in evident frustration, muttering under his breath.

He is among 42 committed competitors — weightlifters, swimmers, and track runners — gathered in Las Vegas this Memorial Day weekend for the Enhanced Games, a unique (and now infamous) competition where almost all participants use performance-enhancing drugs.

The event has been mockingly dubbed the “steroid Olympics” by critics, as the organizers boldly allow many athletes to indulge in anabolic steroids, testosterone, peptides, human growth hormones, and other substances, with medical professionals keeping watch. This diverse group of athletes, representing various ages, skills, and backgrounds, spent 12 weeks in the United Arab Emirates perfecting their forms under tailored “protocols” crafted by doctors to meet their specific requirements.

Competitors also receive “appearance fees” just for participating, plus potential cash prizes for record-breaking feats — up to $1 million for events like the 100 meter sprint and 50 meter freestyle.

In summary, the Enhanced Games have thrown out the traditional rulebook of professional sports.

So, what brings me—a tech journalist—to cover this event?

Interestingly, Silicon Valley plays a pivotal role in the Enhanced Games’ inception. The event is organized by a startup founded by individuals from crypto, AI, and biotech backgrounds, with high-profile backing from investors such as Peter Thiel and former Coinbase executive Balaji Srinivasan. It symbolizes an emerging sector in Silicon Valley: human enhancement, where injectable drugs and supplements aspire to offer physical empowerment alongside profit.

Conversely, traditional sports health organizations vehemently oppose it. The World Anti-Doping Agency has denounced the Enhanced Games as “dangerous,” with Travis Tygart, CEO of the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency, condemning it as a “clown show prioritizing profit over people.”

Steroids have long raised eyebrows among health professionals, with even FDA-approved consumer drugs attracting scrutiny.

Despite this, Enhanced’s organizers argue that they’re on a noble mission to address a persistent issue in organized sports: a significant number of athletes are already utilizing performance enhancers, albeit covertly. This lack of transparency heightens risks due to insufficient medical supervision. In contrast, Enhanced athletes use these substances openly, under careful medical oversight.

If Enhanced were solely devoted to enhancing safety in sports, it could be perceived differently. However, it transcends mere athletics — it is a business endeavor. Enhanced Group, Inc., now publicly traded, recently celebrated a valuation of $1.2 billion. The organization offers bespoke health treatments, including peptides, weight loss medications, testosterone doses, and other enhancement drugs. They’ve also partnered with AI firm Rezolve Ai to unveil a digital telehealth platform.

Enhanced aims to expand its Vegas spectacle into a worldwide operation, creating a distribution network for consumers eager to boost their physique and stave off aging. While the drugs promoted by Enhanced are FDA-approved, concerns linger that normalizing steroid use could lead to adverse societal impacts, especially motivating younger individuals towards unregulated and possibly hazardous substances. This worry casts a shadow over the event, which many see as a grand advertising campaign for Enhanced’s business and the broader peptide industry.

One nation, under peptides

I am among around 200 reporters from around the globe who arrived in Vegas two days prior to the games. Enhanced generously provides us with workspaces, meals, and access to both athletes and executives, though there’s a subtle belief that our presence is vital to their business strategy. As skeptical onlookers at this circus-like event, we are here to inform the masses and generate interest in the existence of the competition. Essentially, we double as unwitting marketers for Enhanced.

This venture is part of an industry bracing for a gold-rush-like boom this year, dependent on specific deregulations.

In February, U.S. Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. expressed excitement for peptides during his guest appearance on The Joe Rogan Experience, indicating he would promote easing FDA regulations on certain peptides. It seems he is following through, as the FDA is set to convene an advisory committee in July to review the restrictions on previously banned peptides.

The peptide sector currently stands at an intriguing crossroads, with some startups reportedly developing products from chemicals that exist within a legal “gray” area, aiming to be the first to market should regulations change. Others prefer to rely on FDA-approved offerings. The frenzy surrounding this market has turned Silicon Valley into a hotbed, with tech enthusiasts vigorously using and investing in peptides. Startups like Superpower, an AI longevity venture selling FDA-compliant peptides, and Noho Labs, a peptide startup funded by Elad Gil, have gained traction, while exclusive gatherings like AGI House are hosting peptide-injecting “parties” amidst a surge of personal use among the elite.

The allure of peptides isn’t limited to the Bay Area; they’re gaining traction nationwide as a booming fitness culture emerges. Recent reports indicate that younger individuals are turning to peptides in pursuit of “looksmaxing” — a popular term for extreme efforts to enhance one’s appearance — with gyms evolving into cultural hubs for the younger generation. This trend has been fueled by a social media environment that amplifies surface-level aesthetics. The figurehead of “looksmaxxing,” a 20-year-old influencer named “Clavicular,” has become a divisive proponent of peptides, along with popular podcasters like Joe Rogan and Andrew Huberman who have broached the topic lately.

This is all about “health,” right?

Peptide manufacturers — including executives at Enhanced — emphatically insist that their primary focus is consumer “health.” Simultaneously, their focus on profit is quite evident.

Maximilian Martin, the 29-year-old CEO and co-founder of Enhanced, presents a well-spoken case for his company’s unconventional methods. Always sharply attired in a suit, Martin approaches journalists during a Saturday press conference, diligently addressing inquiries while outlining plans to monetize a new era of chemically-enhanced individuals.

The comparisons to X-Men are inevitable.

“Performance enhancement has been present for ages. Just look at Hollywood’s Marvel superheroes; they are all improved in some way,” Martin says. “For instance, Hugh Jackman doesn’t attain his physique merely through a clean diet and restful sleep. The peptide market in the U.S. caters to about 85 million people, many of whom opt for unsupervised and unregulated choices. Our objective is to offer a safe, medical pathway for those seeking benefits.”

Christian Angermayer, Enhanced’s billionaire co-founder and executive chairman, succinctly remarks, “I’m a capitalist.” He believes there’s no contradiction between health and business. “Why shouldn’t something beneficial also represent a business opportunity?”

Let the games begin

The day of the competitions, May 24th, is a vivid blur of activity — all set within a $50 million open-air stadium erected swiftly for this occasion. The facility comprises tracks, swimming pools, and expansive weightlifting zones. Crowds of spectators cheer vocally, undeterred by the glaring sun.

While the ambiance might superficially mimic the Olympics, the atmosphere is significantly less serious, evoking an awkward mix of America’s Got Talent, WWE, and Gladiator. Trendy influencers gather in vibrant cliques, while an enthusiastic announcer narrates the proceedings in a booming voice, resembling the electrifying commentary of WrestleMania. To cap it off, later in the events The Killers, renowned for their Vegas performances, will conduct a brief concert.

Meanwhile, the athletes stroll around like legends, their remarkable physiques glimmering in the sunlight.

Throughout the day, Martin is frequently seen, zipping around in his sharply tailored suit, which gradually becomes damp as he rushes to commend winning swimmers. Angermayer moves around with ease, flashing a relaxed smile, occasionally stopping by the media tent to greet journalists.

Tech figures like Bryan Johnson, a wealthy biohacker aiming for immortality, are also present. Despite lacking any athletic credentials, Johnson positions himself on the sidelines, offering commentary akin to a retired athlete. Soon after, he and his girlfriend, who’s known for his social media exploits, pass the media tent, Johnson dressed in an ensemble reminiscent of the Sleepytime Bear from Celestial Seasonings.

The competitions themselves are captivating, showcasing diverse athletes participating.

Athletes like James Magnussen, a retired Australian swimmer and Olympic medalist, see these games as an opportunity to rekindle their competitive edge. Magnussen, easily recognized due to a viral photo of his impressive build, has shown support for the peptide industry, claiming that peptides and testosterone make him feel “18 again.” Nevertheless, he struggles to break records, finishing last in two events.

Similarly, Hafthor “Thor” Bjornsson, a behemoth in bodybuilding and competitive weightlifting, openly admits to his prior steroid use. He perceives this competition as a chance to leverage performance enhancers under proper medical supervision.

Bjornsson is widely known for his portrayal of Gregor Clegane in Game of Thrones, a character famous for brutal battles. During a media session, a reporter jokingly asks if he’ll crush her skull; he playfully mimics the action. At the games, Bjornsson attempts a daring world record deadlift of 1,135.4 pounds but ultimately fails.

Conversely, American swimmer Hunter Armstrong chooses to forgo enhancements. When questioned about his participation, Armstrong cites the prize money as a significant factor. He has Olympic aspirations and desires to retain his eligibility while avoiding doping due to personal beliefs.

“The Olympic movement holds great significance for me,” Armstrong tells reporters. “In addition to personal ethics, engaging in any form of protocol would threaten my chances.”

Armstrong, alongside others, emerges victorious in his races (notably the 50-meter backstroke) without relying on “enhancements.”

The events flow steadily, and while organizers boast about a groundbreaking showcase of human capability, the competitions, though fascinating, largely lack the excitement generated by the Olympics or even an eventful football game. The conclusion arrives with a striking crescendo: the final race of the evening — the men’s 50-meter freestyle — wraps up with the first and only world record of the competition. Kristian Gkolomeev, a towering six-foot-eight figure from Greece, races across the pool in an astonishing 20.81 seconds, breaking the previous record by 0.07 seconds. The audience bursts into cheers, with lights flashing in a celebratory display reminiscent of a game show. Other swimmers join in joyous celebration, while Martin rushes forward to embrace the soaking wet Gkolomeev.

The future is enhanced?

Critics of the Enhanced Games contend that the emphasis leans more towards profit than health. Yet, there’s an ongoing sense that the games also encapsulate vanity — a hallmark of American culture and its organizers. The U.S. has always celebrated a fitness culture that extends beyond health, venturing into self-admiration, elevating the Enhanced Games beyond a mere sporting event; it’s a grand spectacle symbolizing a new era of American self-importance. Choosing Las Vegas, a city known for excess, for the event underscores this notion. It’s a setting where individuals frequently wager their futures for fleeting fame.

Moreover, self-administering drugs for muscle enhancement seems to emphasize immediate aesthetic satisfaction over long-term wellness — neglecting the potential health consequences.

Meanwhile, the true triumph for the event’s founders lies in their capacity to establish a new industry. They revel in their efforts with a grand event that they claim heralds future “scientific achievements” and “human evolution,” paired with their revenue objectives. The actual bet is whether this industry will thrive or stumble in the months ahead, but much like the consumers of their products, the organizers appear focused on the present.

As the three-day festival wraps up, the press contingent feels the weight of exhaustion. At midnight, with the games concluded, our weary group returns to the media center — a brightly lit workspace in the nearby Resorts World hotel. As I get ready to depart, I stop by the restroom, and upon coming out, unexpectedly encounter Martin again. He seems to be in a fresh suit (or perhaps the previous one is just dry now) and is admiring himself in the bathroom mirror, likely prepping for the upcoming late-night press conference.

Having not yet spoken to him, I’m momentarily uncertain about what to say. What could two strangers discuss in a public restroom at this hour? Reflecting on the last 72 hours, I simply say “Congratulations” as I head toward the exit.

“Thank you,” he responds, offering a brief nod before returning to his reflection.